A young man lay on the concrete ground beneath the pouring sky, hidden between buildings in a narrow alley of the slums. His breaths came shallow, his eyes sore, his neck stiff as stone beneath the moonlight. He was Awakening.
Normally, an Awakened was a valuable asset to the Bastion. But here, in the slums, hundreds—if not thousands—went through the process each week. Almost none survived. In the last five years, only one had.
Kaelrich knew why. Those in the Inner City could pay for an Awakened mentor to guide the torrent of essence surging through their bodies, saving them from death. Out here, in the gutters, the poor had nothing but luck.
And his luck had finally run out.
He lay still on the cold ground, rain soaking him through, waiting for the end.
Man… I should've said goodbye to the old man, huh.
A shriek tore from his throat. It felt as though every vessel in his body ripped open at once. Pain consumed him. His eyelids fell, his breath slowed, the world dimmed. Rain hammered his skin as if trying to wash him away before death could claim him.
Then—
Pain.
A searing light ignited beneath his flesh, coursing through his veins like molten fire. His chest convulsed as his body arched off the ground. Kaelrich's scream cut through the storm, raw and guttural, echoing down the alley.
It was as if threads of power stitched him together and tore him apart in the same heartbeat. His voice bounced off rotted walls until finally—something shifted.
He was healing.
His torn vessels knitted together. Every cell screamed, then multiplied. Blood clotted, skin stitched, bones fused. The agony was unbearable, yet Kael smiled through the torment. He knew. He had survived.
He was the lucky one. One in millions.
Hours later, as the sun dipped west, he gasped for air, clutching the soaked ground. The alley looked sharper, edges outlined in strange clarity. Every raindrop was deafening in his ears.
A rat scurried out from a pile of scrap, one leg twisted at an odd angle. Kael's hand shot out instinctively, closing around it.
The rat froze. Its broken limb twitched, then snapped back into place. It squealed in relief—until its flesh rippled, bubbled, then burst.
Kael stumbled back, gagging, as the steaming, quivering mess collapsed onto the stone. The stench was immediate and choking.
His hand trembled. His chest heaved.
What the fuck?
And then—
A voice. Hollow, clinical, inside his skull:
[Kindled.]
[You have Awakened.]
Kael froze. The voice made it real. He was alive. He was Kindled.
The rain clung to him like silver threads, gleaming in the dim light. He noticed a glow reflected in a puddle beside him—the shape of a full moon.
No shot…
Heart pounding, he raised a hand to his neck. An image burned into his mind:
[Name: Kaelrich Veyrmann]
[Rank: Kindled]
[Gift: Threads of Life]
[Gift Description: You have been bestowed the gift of life. Yet the savior's gift is not without cost. Will you save more than you kill?]
[Traits: Fast Learner, Rat, Combat Prodigy]
Kael let out a laugh of pure disbelief. Not only had he Awakened, he'd done so under a full moon—a sigil, the rarest and strongest omen of power. And three traits. Three!
"Fast Learner," obvious enough. "Combat Prodigy"… odd, since he'd never held a sword, but it promised he'd master fighting faster than anyone else.
But "Rat"? What the hell does that even mean?
He focused, and the answer came.
[Rat: Raised in the lowest of the low, you always sense when your life is threatened.]
Enhanced awareness. Useful enough. But then a cold thought struck him—he had forgotten something. The Flaw.
He held his breath, forcing the sigil to reveal the words.
[Flaw: Outflowing Essence]
[Flaw Description: Your healing gift activates whenever you touch another being with your bare hands.]
Kael blinked.
WHAT…? That's… actually not that bad…
He could wear gloves. Fight with weapons. It wasn't like—
The stinking puddle of melted rat flashed in his mind. His stomach churned.
Shit.
His touch hadn't healed the creature. It had killed it. His essence drained into it, overwhelming and tearing it apart. He pressed his palm against his own face in sudden panic, then exhaled in shaky relief. His power didn't affect him. Only others.
Still trembling, Kael pushed himself upright. His legs wobbled, but he began walking. He had somewhere to go.
…
Twenty minutes later, he reached the orphanage—a shambled hut of scrap wood and tin, its door sagging on tired hinges. His home since the Crisis took his parents.
Kael knocked softly.
"Coming," came the frail reply.
The door creaked open. Richard, a slim, stooped man in a threadbare brown robe, appeared. His face was wrinkled, his frame frail, but his eyes still sharp.
Kael smiled. "Hey, old man. How's your day?"
Richard's expression stiffened. "Where have you been? Today is your sixteenth birthday—we've been waiting four hours!" His voice was stern, but Kael could hear the worry beneath it. Richard had planned this day for weeks. After all, sixteen meant Kael would be forced to leave the orphanage.
Kael grinned sheepishly. "Oh, nothing much. Just… becoming Kindled."
Richard's scowl froze. His gaze swept over Kael's frame—now taller, sharper, stronger. He went pale.
"Don't joke with me, boy," he whispered. "You mean to tell me…"
Kael raised his hand, flexing proudly. "Yeah. I did it. I'm Kindled. Full moon sigil, too." He tapped the glowing sigil at his neck, which had settled into a tattoo-like mark.
Richard staggered, catching himself on the doorframe. His hand shook. "A… full moon Kindled?" His voice cracked. "Kael… do you know what that means?"
Kael shrugged, trying to smile. "That I'm gonna be a big shot?"
Richard didn't smile. Fear and sadness clouded his eyes. He gripped Kael's shoulder, his frail hand surprisingly strong.
"Yes. It means you're one of the Bastion's prodigies. But listen—an Awakened from the slums is cursed. They'll target you, one way or another. The social order won't allow someone like you to rise without resistance. If I can give you one piece of advice, it's this: keep to yourself."
Kael tilted his head. Richard was almost always right, but surely things wouldn't be that bad if he kept quiet? Before he could answer, the chatter of children inside reminded him of his party.
Richard sighed, forcing a smile. "Come in, boy. Your brothers and sisters are waiting. They baked you a cake—or what passes for one these days. I'll write a letter to the council. They'll send you to the Academy in the Inner City tomorrow." He chuckled. "Those bastards ignore us most days, but they'll never ignore an Awakened."
Kael followed him inside, ready to enjoy his last birthday here.
…
The next morning, before dawn, Richard shook him awake. "The carriage is already here," he said with a crooked grin. "They seem real eager to send you away. Guess they don't want trouble on their doorstep."
His smile faltered. "You won't have time to say goodbye. Get your things, and remember—you'll always have a home here."
Kael rubbed his eyes, groggy from the night before. The rough taste of their makeshift cake still lingered on his tongue. He stuffed his few belongings into a satchel: an old knife, a half-ruined book, and a coarse scarf knitted by one of the younger kids.
Richard rested a firm hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me. The Academy will try to shape you into a weapon. Maybe you'll become one. But don't lose yourself."
Kael smirked. "You're making it sound like I'm already dead."
Richard's lips twitched into a tired grin. "No, boy. I'm reminding you that you're alive. Stay that way."
A heavy knock rattled the door.
"They're here," Richard said.
Kael slung his satchel, exhaled, and stepped toward the door. His hand paused on the rusted handle.
"See you," Kael said, starting toward the door. Then he paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. 'And… hope you don't mind me taking those gloves!'"
Richard's face twitched, then softened into a gentle smile.
Kael turned back, pulled the door open, and stepped outside.
A dark iron carriage waited, plated with steel. Two armoured escorts stood by its steps. Kael climbed aboard, and the door shut behind him with a final, echoing thud.